


The Thinker

by Gcgraywriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Graduation, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, No Smut, POV Ginny Weasley, Plans For The Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24652216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gcgraywriter/pseuds/Gcgraywriter
Summary: Written for the Summer's Out fic exchange as part of the Draco's Den Facebook group.Prompt given was as follows:Prompt - Ginny Weasley stumbles on Blaise Zabini outside of a graduation party, still clothed in cap and gown, worried about what they're going to do now that Uni is over. Ginny offers distraction/comfort.Kinks - The Slytherin is the one panicking, and the distraction is fueled by sober feelings, despite the party atmosphere. Smut welcome!Squicks - No rape, no character bashing, no slut-shaming.Additional Notes - Surprise me! I'd like to see whatever sort of story is inspired by the closing of one chapter.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12
Collections: School's Out For Summer





	The Thinker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [realjane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/gifts).



> I've never written this pair before, however, it was fun to write. I hope the giftee enjoys it.
> 
> Shoutout to KazOfScotland for Betaing for me. Thank you xxx

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/187009200@N02/50003364287/in/dateposted-public/)

The sweat poured off her as she left the dance floor. She really would have to thank whoever had organised the music as she hadn’t stopped dancing all night. Her cap and gown were around somewhere, long since discarded in the excitement.

It was school, so the only drinks available were either non-alcoholic ones or butterbeer. No one, except possibly Professor Flitwick, could get drunk on butterbeer. The Rememberall’s had really raised the roof after the Weird Sisters set.

She wiped at her brow before knocking back her iced gillywater and lime. She looked around at the crowds of people and sighed. She wished Harry and even her idiot brother Ron could have been here to celebrate with them instead of being at Auror training. Still, she could understand why they hadn’t wanted to return.

Hermione joined her at the table, looking equally as flushed as she fanned herself. Her metallic dress catching the lights like molten gold.  
“Having fun?” She shouted as the band started up their next song. 

Ginny nodded before taking another greedy swig of her drink. “They’re great, but I’m baking! If I stay in here much longer, they’ll wrap me in bacon and sit me on the buffet table!” Hermione laughed and shook her head. “I’m going to step outside. Need some air,” she gestured. Hermione nodded, her eyes returning to the crowd as she too gulped down her drink.

Ginny grinned before turning around, almost tripping in the heels that Luna had made her wear. She looked around nervously, but no one seemed to have noticed. She sighed with relief before weaving through the other students. 

By the time she reached the main entrance, she felt even hotter and more bothered than she has initially. She fanned herself as she took a deep breath of the fresh Scottish air, luxuriating in the way the waning sun touched her skin. She stood there for a moment enjoying the silence before she realised that it wasn’t silent at all.

A muffled tapping caught her attention as its insistent beat broke through the summer air. She turned around, looking for the source of the noise. The steps were empty. She peered over the edge of the steps, the one side had a couple snogging below, but they were surprisingly quiet. Ginny wondered whether they were using a silencing charm when she recognised the pair—Neville and none other than Pansy Parkinson. 

Ginny shook her head and snorted. Someone had some explaining to do when they finally parted. She stepped away, giving them their privacy before she gazed over the other side. She spotted another Slytherin; however, this one was sat alone. She frowned curiously as she kept her eyes locked on him before descending the stone steps. 

Blaise Zabini was gorgeous. The whole school agreed, as did most witches in the wider wizarding community. He came from a family where people died scrambling over each other for a closer look. His genetics meant he stood aloof like some statue, still, and composed. She had often admired him, as had almost every other student at the school. However, unlike most of the other students, she didn’t fancy him. He was nice to look at, but he was also an arsehole.

Now more than ever, he reminded her of Rodin’s bronze sculpture, ‘the thinker’. He sat hunched over, resting his chin on his fist, his golden-brown skin like powdered bronze. The source of her irritation and coincidentally, the origin of the noise was clear to see as his leg bounced rapidly. It gave her a glimpse behind the mask he usually wore, exposing his distress.  
This was a side to him she had never witnessed before. He usually gave the outward appearance of boredom. She didn’t think that she had ever seen him exert such energy in anything with the exception of Quidditch.

“You alright, Zabini?” She asked as she got closer. It was her seventh year and his eighth. Since the war, they all had tried to be at least civil to each other. They all silently recognised that it had been a stupid war, which none of them should have ever been dragged into. 

When he didn’t react. Ginny stopped and leant into his distant gaze. “Oi! Zabini,” She barked, waving her hand to attract his attention. He blinked and focused on her, his eyes wide in surprise as if she had just appeared out of thin air. “Are you alright?” She repeated. She felt unnerved suddenly having his full and intense gaze on her. 

He nodded silently before his gaze flitted away again. He repositioned himself as he sat on the stone bench. Even in his obvious distress, he couldn’t help but pose. He bent and twisted his graduation cap in his hands as he continued to stare off into the distance. “Are you sure?” She asked again. He nodded again and looked at her before glancing down at his bent cap. He cursed under his breath as he desperately tried to straighten it out again. 

“Was there something you wanted, Weasley?” He said, and she was impressed, his voice gave away nothing. She stepped closer as she kept her eyes on him. He looked up at her, his bronze skin shimmering in the twilight. 

“Mind if I sit down? The other bench is taken,” She asked. He looked at her and nodded before he shifted along, allowing her enough room to sit. 

Not for the first time that evening, was she regretting her choice of dress. The glittery midnight blue gown was slit on one side from hip to ankle. She took a deep and calming breath before she lowered herself onto the stone bench. His eyes darted sideways to her before gazing off again. 

They sat in awkward silence for a while as she pretended to fan herself. She had long since passed feeling hot from the party. She shot a glance to his side as she wondered how she could help. 

“Warm night, isn’t it?” she asked, silently cursing herself. It was a stupid and lame comment. 

He looked at her, his face it’s usual mask. He nodded and turned away again. 

She wasn’t sure why this was so difficult. She didn’t fancy him, but she didn’t know him. She shook her head and looked away as she figured out what to do. 

“Look! I know we don’t know each other, not very well at least, but I can tell you have something on your mind. If you need someone to listen, you can talk to me about it if you want.” She blurted as she turned to him. She felt the split on her dress part, and she stopped. Why she had ever let Luna talk her into the midnight number was beyond her.  
She found herself talking again, just in case he misunderstood. “My brother, George. He’s terrible for keeping things bottled up as he feels he doesn’t have anyone else that he can share things with anymore. I try to help as much as possible, but sometimes you just have to be there to listen, you know?” She asked. She looked up from the split in her dress to find him looking at her. 

His face was its neutral mask, but his chocolate eyes seemed interested. 

“So if you ever did need someone to listen…” She let the question hang there before swallowing. She felt sweaty again as the anxiety built up within her. Why was she feeling this way? Why was she so nervous?

“How on earth do you listen to people when all you do is talk?” He asked rudely. 

She sat, gobsmacked for a while before she closed her mouth and stood up. The heat was back in her cheeks now—a heady concoction of embarrassment and anger.  
“Go suck a Skrewt, Zabini,” She growled as she looked behind her. 

Her ankle folded beneath her as the heel twisted. She cursed brashly as she threw her hands out to cushion her fall, but all too suddenly she felt the hard ground bite into her flesh. It took a moment for her to realise what had happened before the pain and embarrassment rushed through her. She groaned, and she wasn’t sure which hurt more, her ankle or the damage to her pride. 

“Are you alright?” He asked. She didn’t want to look up and see his smug face looking down at her. She clenched her teeth angrily as she tried to get up. The slit at her hip be damned. She was sure that she’d heard it tear. Gingerly putting her weight down on the injured foot she found it sore, but just about usable. She’d had worse injuries on the Quidditch pitch. Dusting herself off, she glared at him before trying to walk off, hiding the limp. “Weasley!” He cried, stopping her in her tracks. Glaring, she turned and pointed, feeling the burning sting in her grazed palms. 

“Don’t talk to me!” She scowled, “I offered to help you, as you looked upset, and you threw it back in my face. And then, I get a twisted ankle for my trouble. Keep your opinions, jibes and jokes to yourself,”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to talk to you, do you ever shut up?” He asked as a smirk played on his features. 

She stood with her mouth open. How dare he do it again? She shook her head in disbelief before turning to leave. “I’m sorry,” He said before she’d even taken a full step. The hot throbbing in her ankle made her grit her teeth. She refused to show just how much she was feeling it. “That’s better, I can get a word in edgeways now, would you care to sit down?” He asked smoothly. She didn’t make any move to turn, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to with her throbbing foot. She closed her eyes as a particularly strong throb of pain seemed to emanate from her ankle and through the rest of her body. 

“Wow, I’d heard that you were an arsehole, I just didn’t realise you were such a massive twat too!” She growled, her fists clenched. 

“Come on,” He said as he took her arm, hooking it around his shoulders.

“No, get off!” She tried to protest, but he led her back to the bench before sitting her down. He sat next to her and put her leg on his as he felt around on her skin. 

She frowned and was about to protest when he struck out with his wand. Immediately she felt the throbbing lessen until it disappeared completely. Rotating her ankle carefully, she waited for the pain, but it had vanished. 

“All better now,” He said with a small smile before he freed her leg.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she slid her leg to the floor, then with a blush, remembered her dress. She tugged at the material as she tried to cover her modesty. The poor dress had split up the waist, flashing a glimpse of her blue knickers and pale flesh. She glanced up to him and frowned. 

Blaise was pulling off his robe to expose what appeared to be a gunmetal grey suit. “What are you doing?”

“Shush, will you?” He said as he covered her shoulders in the robes. They were warm and smelt like expensive cologne. “I thought you might want to hide your modesty, Not that I minded the view,” He smirked again. The smirk was short-lived as he sat back down to stare off again. 

She watched him and shook her head. “What is going on with you?”

“Not going to let it go, are you?” She shook her head as she got more comfortable.

“I’m not a chaser for nothing,” she smirked teasingly.

“Definitely not for nothing, I’ve seen you play!” He said with a nod. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d accuse him of paying her a compliment. 

“Well?”

He smirked as he played with his cufflinks “It’s nothing, Just thinking about the future, I guess,”

“Looks less like thinking and more like fretting to me!” She retorted.

“What's the difference?” He shrugged, “Doesn’t everyone worry about the future?”

“Not me, It’s a waste of energy. I worry about the here and now. The future isn’t guaranteed. You should know that as well as everyone else here!”

He nodded and looked down again, resting his elbows on his knees. With his hands clasped together, he sighed. 

“I wish I could be as practical about the whole thing. But I guess you don’t have people at home putting pressure on you,” He stated, not sounding like he really expected an answer. 

“Are you kidding me? I’m the only girl out of a Quidditch team sized family! Of course, I have people pinning their expectations on me. My mom wants me to settle down and have a family, she’s desperate for grandchildren. My dad wants me to work in the ministry, rebuilding the mess left behind. My eldest brother thinks I should travel for a year before I decide to do anything.” She looked down at her own hands. She hadn’t told any of them that she’d received a letter from the Harpies. 

“I stand corrected,” He nodded.

“What does your mom want you to do? I assume that is who you’re talking about?” He looked at her and nodded. 

“She wants me to join her as a socialite, and while that might be fun for a while, it also sounds quite asinine. I think she wants me to follow in her footsteps, but the idea of having so many wives gives me a headache,” He snorted. 

“You? Marry?” She snorted herself. “Yeah, right!”

“You wound me, Weasley!” he said with a smirk.

“Like you care what I think!” She snorted again. 

“I do actually, You were one of the first to start treating us Slytherin’s like humans after the war,” He uttered quietly. 

“So?” She shrugged. “There’s no real point, is there? No point stirring up old rivalries when that’s what caused it all to start with,”

He nodded before looking at her again. “Very true. But anyway, you were the first. You actually gave me the idea that maybe I didn’t want to be like my mother,”

“I don’t know? Wealthy and beautiful. Lots of women would kill for that,” 

“But you wouldn’t, would you?” He asked. 

“Are you saying I’m not beautiful?” She asked teasingly. He had the decency to blush. She shook her head with a chuckle before he could apologise. “ But no. Beauty fades, and you can’t take wealth with you when you go,” She shrugged. 

“I’m not sure truer words have ever been spoken,” He smirked. “You are one of the strangest girls I’ve ever met,” He added as he narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Thank you?” She offered suspiciously. “Knowing some of the girls you’ve been seen with, I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

He snorted and shook his head. “And you are beautiful, by the way.” He said as he looked down at his hands. She didn’t know what to say. She opted for humour. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” She smiled. 

“No, I don’t usually talk to them. They throw themselves before me… in a slightly different way than you did…” He chuckled. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “How is your ankle?” He asked as though nothing else had been said. 

“Better,” She considered it “So what would you do instead of being a beautifully wealthy flirt?” 

He paused for a while as he studied his crumbled cap “I was thinking of becoming a healer.” He glanced at her as though she would start laughing at him. She considered it and smiled. 

“If that’s the case you really should work on your bedside manner!” She smirked “First you tell your patient that she won't stop talking, then you flirt with her… I daren’t think what you’d do next!”

“I was thinking about a kiss, apparently kisses make everything better,” He started as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She swallowed. Maybe she had been wrong. Perhaps she did fancy him, even if only slightly. 

“A kiss?” She asked as she leant forward to peel off her shoes. 

“A kiss a day keeps the healers at bay, or so I’m told…” He said as he moved closer. 

“Is that so?” She said as she too moved closer. 

Her eyes dropped to his lips as his face neared. She licked her own in anticipation. She paused and pulled back. She didn’t want to be like the other girls that fell for his charms. “This really does go against all the healer-patient rules. I think I had better make sure that I’m completely healed first, and then, maybe… I’ll let you take me out for dinner,” she winked. 

She liked the surprised look on his face, it was so much better than the smug look she had seen so often. She refused to give anything away that he hadn’t worked hard to earn.  
She kissed him on the cheek briefly before standing up, her shoes dangling from her fingers. 

“Well, of course, It would be only right If I were to organise a check-up with you,” He smiled as he touched his face. “How about next Thursday, at seven at the Goblin Italian by Gringotts?”

She tilted her head as if considering it and then nodded. 

“Sounds acceptable.” She smiled. 

“So, no kiss?” He asked slyly. 

“You’re not a chaser for nothing either, better work for it and get chasing!”

“Does that mean I have to listen to you jabber on even more?”

“You know what, Zabini? You really are an arsehole,” They both chuckled as they made their way back to the party. 

“And you were the perfect distraction, thank you,” He nodded with a smile. “I now have something to look forward to,”


End file.
